


Raw Recruits

by PoisonEnvy



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonEnvy/pseuds/PoisonEnvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Cullen are two new recruits to the Templar order, sent there under very different circumstances.  Despite their differences, maybe they can become friends.   (Possible eventual Cullen/Alistair.  Who knows.  We'll see.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alistair

                “He’s not my son, Isolde.”  Alistair could hear Eamon speaking through the door. 

                “You expect me to believe that he’s just the son of some serving wench?” Isolde asked, her voice shrill and angry.  It sounded as if she was crying.  Alistair knew that he shouldn’t eavesdrop on serious conversations like this, but really, the conversation was about him, wasn’t it?  That gave him the right to listen in as much as possible.  “You expect me to believe that?  I see how you dote on him, Eamon.”

                He wondered a little why Eamon didn’t just tell Isolde the truth.  Alistair knew that other people weren’t supposed to know that he was the son of King Maric, something something competing with the throne with Cailen something something.  But this was an argument that he had heard Isolde and Eamon have before, and Isolde was always so mean to him.  Maybe if she knew the truth, she’d be a little nicer to him.  That would be nice, he thought to himself. 

                “Isolde…” Eamon started.  Alistair recognized that voice.  It was the tone of voice Eamon used when he was about to persuade someone of something, and he had never known Eamon to fail once he got all serious like that.  Alistair smiled a little to himself.  Maybe once Eamon and Isolde stopped fighting, Alistair could show him the new trick he had learned with the pike.

                “No, Eamon,” Isolde cut in.  “I don’t care what you have to say.  If Alistair truly is just a low born orphan, then he should go to live with the other orphans in the Chantry.  At this point, I don’t care if he really is your son or not, but people are talking, and they will continue to talk so long as you continue to treat him like he is your son.” 

                Haha!  Yeah right.  Like Eamon would ever agree to that.  Stupid Isolde.

                There was a silence behind the door, which confused Alistair.  Really, Eamon’s refusal of such a stupid idea should have been immediate.  Just right away “No Isolde, Alistair may not be my son, but I do like him more than I like you.  Maybe I’ll send _you_ to go live in the Chantry.  How would you like that?”

                Eamon’s response was quiet, so quiet that Alistiar almost couldn’t hear it through the door.  “Very well, dear.  Maybe that would be for the best.”

                It felt like Alistair’s heart plummeted into his stomach, and he instantly felt the sting of tears in his eyes.  He angrily rubbed them with the back of his hand, and then took off running through the halls.  Skidding around a corner, he crashed into Teagan, and they both tumbled to the ground, but Alistair was on his feet immediately and was running down the hall before Teagan was able to yell out “Wha – Alistair!  Stop!  Where are you going?” 

                Alistair didn’t stop running until he was in the dungeons.  He was happy to see that the guard that was on duty was one of the new guards, though he couldn’t remember the man’s name.  Frederick?  Fenir?  Percy?  Whatever his name was, he clearly wasn’t prepared to be tackled by a ten year old and lost his footing when Alistair barrelled into him.  Alistair took advantage of the winded guard to unclip the ring of keys that hung around the man’s waist, and then Alistair was on his feet again before the man could catch his breath, and he ran deeper into the dungeons.  He fumbled with the keys once he made it to one of the cells, and had just managed to unlock one of the cell doors, jump inside, and then lock it behind him before the man rounded the corner.  

                “Oh no,” the man breathed when he saw the boy behind the bars.  He steadied himself with a deep breath.  “Hi.  Your name is Alistair, right?  I’m Godfrey.”    Godfrey, Percy, same thing.   “What are you doing in there?” 

                Alistair said nothing, but glared at the man.  He was sure that he made a frightening, manly glare.  One that would for sure make the man leave him alone.  

                “Listen, Alistair.  Al.   Can I call you Al?”

                “No.”

                “Er.  Right.  Alistair then.  Can you please come out?  I can see your upset, and that probably isn’t any of my business – “

                “You’re right.  It’s not.”

                “Er.   Well.  I mean, it’s kind of my business.  Now that you’ve stolen my keys and locked yourself in there.  But I could get into a lot of trouble if someone found out.  So why don’t  you give me the keys, and I’ll let you out, and then we could just never mention this again, okay?”

                Alistair glared at him with the full force of all his anger, and tried to pretend that the hiccupping sob that escaped his throat at that exact moment didn’t diminish the effect. 

                “Uh.  Right.  Well.  Did you want to talk to me about it?  Maybe I can help.”

                “Go away.”

                “Well then, can you at least give me my keys?  I’ll let you stay in there if you want, but, well, I kind of need those keys.”

                “No.” 

                Godfrey continued to look at Alistair with pleading eyes for a few more moments, before he straightened up.  “Well, if you won’t listen to me, I’ll just have to go tell Arl Eamon, won’t I?  He won’t be very pleased to hear that, will he?  You might get into trouble.”

                “Good!” Alistair yelled, and now that he had started yelling, he found that he couldn't stop.  “Tell Arl Eamon!  I don’t care!  I don’t care at all!” And then, much to his chagrin, he let out another loud sob.

                This clearly wasn’t the answer that Godfrey was looking for, but he gave Alistair one last hapless look before he turned and began walking up toward the stairs, presumably to tell Eamon.  Alistair hoped Eamon felt very bad.  He’d come down to the dungeons, and tell Alistair that he was sorry, and he’d send Isolde to the Chantry to live instead, and then they would continue on like before that horrible woman had come to join them and make Alistair’s life horrible.  Even if he didn’t see the error of his ways right away, he’d eventually realize that he couldn’t send Alistair away if Alistair was locked in the dungeons, and that would be that. 

                It was a long time before anyone came to check on Alistair.  He was feeling pretty hungry, and he was sure that it was supper time by now.  Did people bring food down to the dungeons?  He wondered if he was going to starve.  Maybe Eamon didn’t care if he went to the Chantry or the dungeon, maybe Eamon was just glad to finally be rid of Alistair and he was going to let him starve to death.  He played with the ring of keys, and considered letting himself out so he could go eat supper.  But no.  Maybe _that_ was Eamon’s plan.  Wait until Alistair let himself out and then snatch him up and throw him in a carriage and send him off to the Chantry.

                It was some time after that, when Alistair was certain that he would surely perish if he didn’t eat anything, when he heard footsteps coming down the hall.  He had stopped crying some time ago, but as soon as he saw Eamon standing in the hallway with a plate of dinner, he felt the tears welling up again.  He angrily rubbed his eyes. 

                “I brought you dinner,” Eamon said.  Alistair thought he sounded remorseful.  He slipped the food under the door.  Alistair looked at Eamon suspiciously, before he hopped off the cot, grabbed the food, and then scooted far away from the bars.  He took a suspicious bite of the stew.  It was delicious.  He wondered if food in the Chantry was ever going to be this good.  Of course it wouldn’t.  Emily was the best cook in all of Fereldan.  She liked Alistiar.  More than Eamon did.  More than anyone did.  Maybe she would follow him to the Chantry.  Well, if he was going to the Chantry.  Which he wasn’t.  Because he was going to stay locked in the dungeon until Eamon apologized and told him he could live with him forever. 

                “Alistiar, why don’t you come out of there, and we can talk.  Man to man.”

                “Are you going to send me to the Chantry?” Alistair asked around a mouthful of food. 

                “Well, yes.  But –“

                “Then I’m not coming out.  You can’t send me to the Chantry if you can’t get me, now can you?”

                “Alistair.”  Oh no.  Eamon was acting all stern.  Alistair steeled himself, but upon seeing that, Eamon softened again.  “You’d be happier with the Chantry anyway.  You and Isolde don’t seem to get along –“

                “Because she’s a bitch,” Alistair spat.  He’d heard some of the serving girls call Isolde that when they didn’t realize he was around, and while he knew it was a bad word, he also knew that it meant a Very Mean Person, and was a perfect word for Isolde.  

                Eamon shot him a look, but otherwise continued on like he hadn’t heard the boy.  “The sister’s would all be very nice to you.  And you’d be surrounded by lots of other boys and girls your age, and you’d make lots of friends.  I know that you don’t get to spend much time with kids your age right now.” 

                Alistair put down his plate, and then stood up as straight as he could.  “I am a prince!” he declared.  “And I will not be sent off to live in some Chantry with orphan children.”

                Eamon immediately looked down the hall, though he had to have known they were alone.  Alistair had only heard one set of footsteps approach.

                “Alistair, you are not a prince, and you can’t tell people that you are.”

                “Why do you have to send me to the Chantry?” Alistair demanded, and much to his horror he realized that he was crying again.  “If you don’t want me, why can’t I go live with my father?” 

                If Eamon wasn’t the completely heartless old man that Alistair was realizing he was, he would have thought that he looked pained.  “Alistair, son –“

                “I’m not your son,” Alistair spat. 

                “You can’t go live with your father, and we’ve already discussed why.  We won’t discuss it again.  I’m sorry, and I never wanted this, but in life you can’t always get what you want.  You will be going to live in the Chantry, and that’s final.” 

                “Fine!” Alistair shouted at the top of his lungs.  He threw the half-eaten bowl of stew at Eamon, and the bowl shattered against the bars.  “You don’t want me!” he threw the spoon at Eamon, and he was happy to see that it connected with Eamon’s face, leaving some stew spread across Eamon’s cheek.  “And my father doesn’t want me!”  He threw the tray that Eamon had brought the food on, but it clanged harmlessly against the bars.  “I get it!” He ripped his mother’s amulet off from around his neck.  “No one wants me!”  And then he threw that too.  It sailed past Eamon’s head and shattered against the wall behind him. 

                Alistair sobbed loudly, and then laid down on the cot.  He glared at the wall, his back to Eamon, and tried to ignore the sobs that were shook his entire body.   Eamon said nothing else, but after a couple of minutes, Alistair heard his footsteps retreating down the hall. 

 

 

               The next morning, Alistair unlocked the cell door, stiff from sleeping on the cot (how did prisoners do it every day?), and tired from crying all night.  He was hungry too – he regretted throwing his stew at Eamon very shortly after Eamon had left.  The first stop he made was to the kitchen, where Emily gave him such a pitiable look that Alistair almost started crying again.  She made him his favourite food, special, just for him, and he ate it sullenly.  He tried to enjoy it, since he knew it was the last time he would ever eat it, but he found that it was unusually tasteless.  When he asked if she’d come with him, she told him that she couldn’t, but that she would miss him a lot, and she handed him a pouch filled with his favourite, freshly baked cookies.  He hugged her tightly, and she hugged him back. 

                Then he went to his room, where he found most of his belongings already packed.  A serving boy came to help him with his bags but Alistair glared at him until he went away.  He carried his own bag to the carriage. 

                Teagan saw him off, and probably said some nice things, though Alistair wasn’t listening.  Eamon never came to say goodbye.  


	2. Cullen

                “Damian, get down from there!” Cullen demanded.  He looked up at his brother, who was sitting calmly on one of Shale’s arms, weaving a flower crown around its head.  The statue always creeped Cullen out – he remembered nine years ago when the statue had killed Wilhelm.  When he was a child, he had dreams of the statue coming to life and killing everyone in the village.  Though it hadn’t moved at all in the nine years since it became immobile, and Cullen stopped having the nightmares, he still got the eerie feeling that the statue was _watching_ them somehow. 

                Damian hadn’t even been born yet when the statue was still wandering around scaring everyone, so he was far less nervous around it.  He was always climbing up it, and sitting on its shoulders, and Cullen was sure that someday the statue would come back alive when Damian was sitting up there and crush him.

                “Nu uh,” Damian sang.  “Not ‘til I’m done making it pretty!” 

                Cullen sighed.  Last time he had tried to pull Damian off from the statue by his legs, Damian had fallen and cracked his head open.  Cullen’s parents had yelled at him for hours, even though Cullen was only trying to _help_ , and after that Cullen decided that it was probably best to just let Damian come down on his own time.  Still, Cullen never liked leaving him alone with the statue, so he moved so he was sitting behind it, sat on the grass, and absentmindedly threw birdseed at the statue’s base.  At least the statue couldn’t see him when he was sitting behind it.   He shook his head, knowing it was stupid to think that the statue could see anything at all, but still.  It was _creepy_. 

                “There,” Damian chirped after a few minutes.  “All done.  Now Shale’s really pretty.”  Then he kissed the statue on the top of the head – gross – and jumped down from its arms. 

                “Right.  Pretty.”  Cullen shot the statue one last glance, suppressed a shiver, and then took his little brother by the hand.  He had to admit that the statue was far less, well, intimidating with the crown of flowers perched on its head.  Now that Damian was off of it, the pigeons were already settling onto their usual perches.  “We’re already late for lunch.  Let’s go.” 

                Mia gave the two of them stern glances when they walked through the door.  “You’re late,” she snipped, and Cullen rolled his eyes. 

                “Sorry, Damian wanted to play with Shale,” he said.  Mia placed three plates on the table.  “Where’s Abby?”

                “Mom and Dad took her to gather some herbs with them,” Mia said. 

                “Mia!” Damian sang cheerfully.  “I made Shale a pretty crown.  After lunch did you want to go with me and see it?” 

                Mia looked at Cullen, who shrugged before digging into his food.  If Mia wanted to take over babysitting duty, it was fine by him.  Maybe if he could get away from his seven year old brother, he could head down to the blacksmith and look at some swords.  His parents would never buy him one (“It’s not that we’re worried that you’d hurt yourself, but what if your little brother or sister got their hands on it.  We just don’t want swords in this household”), but sometimes old Leeroy let him pick one up and swing it around. 

                “Okay, Damian,” Mia said, smiling.  “We can go see Shale, but only after you’ve finished all of your lunch.”  Cullen smiled as he took a bite out of his bread. 

                Upon hearing that, Damian quickly shoveled the food into his mouth.  Cullen was half worried that the poor kid would choke, but of course, Damian didn’t, and before Mia was even half done her food, Damian was tugging on her arm, trying to get her to leave the house.  Eventually, she sighed in resignation, packed the rest of her lunch in a cloth bag, and headed out.  She told Cullen something about being careful that he only half listened to before she walked out of the door. 

                He finished the rest of his meal in relative silence, and then headed to the blacksmith.  Leeroy was forging horseshoes, and wasn’t in the mood to have Cullen using the swords, but Cullen decided to stay anyway.   While what Cullen really wanted to do was become a Templar, the Templar’s hadn’t been to Honnleath in three years – not since Matthias turned sixteen and they determined that he hadn’t inherited his father’s magical abilities.  In lieu of being a Templar, he had decided that being a blacksmith was probably the next best job in the world, and had been trying to convince Leeroy to take him on as an apprentice for the last year.  He was sure that Leeroy was about to relent any time now.  Leeroy had never had children of his own, and Cullen was by far the most eager of all the other village boys. 

                Cullen watched Leeroy attentively for close to an hour before Leeroy glanced up at him, and sighed.  “You’re pretty intense, kid,” Leeroy said, wiping some sweat off his brow.  “It’s a little unnerving.  Don’t you have siblings you’re supposed to be watching right now?”

                Cullen shook his head.  “Mia’s watching Damian, and Mom and Dad have Abby.  I have the whole afternoon to just watch and learn from you!” 

                Leeroy gave a resigned sigh, and then looked out at the village.  “Well, you’re not going to learn anything from just watching,” he said eventually.  “Come here and I’ll actually teach you something.  Just so long as you promise not to tell your parents.” 

                It took a moment for the words to actually sink in, and even then Cullen wasn’t sure if he had heard Leeroy right.  Then his face split into a wide grin.  “Really?” he asked, standing up so quickly that he almost fell right back down again.  “That’s awesome!  Thank the Maker!” 

                Leeroy didn’t let him melt the iron down, and didn’t let him pull it from the fire, though as he showed those things with Cullen by his side, he did explain how it worked.  But when he pulled the hot iron from the forge, he did allow Cullen to take the hammer and attempt to shape it.  By the time he was done, it looked more like a beat up L than a horseshoe, but Leeroy said that it looked better than _his_ first horseshoe, and was getting ready to allow Cullen to try it again, when Cullen heard horses coming up the path to the village.  There was only one horse in Honnleath – a beat up old nag that was at the end of her days, so the sound immediately attracted his attention.   When he peered around the building, he was struck by the men who were coming up it.  There were three of them, with four magnificent looking horses.  Their platemail was perfectly polished, not at all dusty from their travels, and shone brightly in the sun.  When Cullen noticed that their breastplates donned the insignia of the Templar Order, he forgot all about Leeroy, and ran out to meet them, still wearing the leather apron that Leeroy had insisted he wear.

                When the knight’s saw the boy running up to them, the on in charge lifted his visor.  “Ah,  young Cullen, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” the man said, smiling amiably.  

                “Knight-Commander Jonah!” Cullen exclaimed, and crossed his arms across his chest in a salute. 

                “Is that a blacksmith apron you’re wearing?” The Knight-Commander asked, and his face fell a little.  “Are you becoming a blacksmith?” 

                Cullen looked down at the apron, then looked up at the Knight-Commander.  “Well, uh, I was just starting to learn some stuff today.  But I’d still rather be a Templar!  Are you here to make me a Templar?”  Cullen asked.  It was the same greeting he had given the Knight-Commander every other time the man had come, and he was fully expecting the man to give the same answer he had always given: “Sorry, Son.  Not this time.”

                Instead, Jonah gave him a mysterious smile, and said nothing.  It wasn’t much to go on, but Cullen’s heart skipped a beat. 

                Cullen ran back to Leeroy’s shop, undoing the apron as he ran, and then dropped it off on the table before running back to the Templars.   Matthias was already speaking to them, so Cullen hung back. 

                “I thought you people already had your answer regarding me,” Matthias said.  He sounded annoyed.  “I’m nineteen.  I think if I was a mage, we would know by now.”

                “We’re not here for you this time,” one of the Templars snapped at him.  “We have other business here.” 

                Matthias looked confused but did not linger around the Templars, and Cullen tried very hard not to get his hopes up.  They weren’t here for Matthias!  Could it be that they really were there for him?  He took some deep breaths to calm himself down, and then when that didn’t work, he started reciting the Chant in his head. 

                “Cullen,” the Knight-Commander said, and motioned him to approach the Tempars.  Cullen took another deep breath, and, with all his self-control, forced himself to walk calmly towards the Templars.  “Where are your parents?” 

                Where are my parents?  _Where are my parents?!_   He wants to talk to my parents! 

                “Uh.  Uh.”  Cullen cleared his throat.  “Uhm.  Well.  Uh.”  Oh no.  Not a time to get flustered.  Deep breath Cullen.  “Well, they went out to the – to the fields.  To gather herbs.  I – I – I could – I could find them if you would like me to.” 

                The Knight-Commander gave him a soft smile.  “Yes, why don’t you do that?” 

                The words were passed the Knight-Commanders lips when Cullen shouted “Yes Ser!” saluted again, and then ran as fast as he could toward the fields. 

 

 

 

                Cullen’s parents hadn’t been able to get much out of Cullen before he had taken them both by their hands and was dragging them back towards the village.  He had said something about a knight-commander wanting to speak with them, but they couldn’t get much more out of him than that. 

                The knights were grooming their horses when his parents did manage to get a look at them.  They had their helms removed, and were laughing with the innkeeper where they had their horses tethered. 

                “Ah!” The Knight-Commander said when he spied Cullen dragging his parents towards them.  “Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford.  We would like to speak with you, if you have a moment.  Is there a place private that we can talk?” 

                “Our house!” Cullen burst out immediately.  “I can show you the way!”

                “Cullen,” his mother chided.  “Our house is hardly fit to see guests right now, especially such distinguished guests are yourselves, Ser Knights.” 

                “Oh, please,” said Jonah.  “It’s just a friendly visit.  I have children of my own, and I know what a mess they make.  I would be more than happy to speak in your home, if you’ll have us.” 

                Cullen’s parents exchanged a look between themselves, before his father nodded.  “Very well, Knight-Commander.  We can speak in our home.”  The two other knights stayed with the horses, while the Knight-Commander accompanied Cullen, Abby, and their parents to their home. 

                Mia and Damian were already back at home when they arrived.  Damian was playing with a toy horse, and Mia was sitting in a chair, sketching.  When the door opened, she gave an exasperated sigh.  “Cullen, where have you been?  It’s your turn to make supper tonight, and I won’t be picking up your slack today.  You’d better have it ready before Mom and Dad get –“ then she looked at who had walked in the door and let out a very undignified squeak.  Cullen smirked to himself.

                She jumped to her feet.  “I’m so sorry,” she said, and looked around the house in the panic.  “The house is a mess.  I should – I could – Please hold on a moment while I tidy up.”  She scooped Damian up, and began to carry him towards the room that he shared with Cullen. 

                “No need,” said the Knight-Commander, holding up his hands.  “Like this it reminds me of my home and family.  I haven’t been able to see them in some time, but this makes me comfortable.” 

                Cullen stole a glance at his parent’s faces.  They both seemed warmer towards him than when they first saw him, his mother especially.  He was going to become a Templar! 

                Mia was already busying herself with making some tea, while the Knight-Commander eased himself into a chair at the table.  Cullen wondered if the chair would hold his weight under all that armour, but it didn’t even groan.  His father had built it well. 

                “Now, Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford.  I’m sure that you may have guessed my intention in coming here today, but I would like to put it right out into the open.  I am here about the possibility of recruiting your son, Cullen Rutherford, into the Templar Order.” 

                Mia almost dropped the mug that she was holding, but managed to save it before it hit the ground.  With every bit of self-discipline that Cullen had, he forced himself to not shout in joy.  His parents exchanged a glance. 

                “Cullen can’t be a Templar!” Mia exclaimed when her parents said nothing. “It’s dangerous!  Fighting mages and demons all day.  He’ll be turned into a newt, or crushed by a golem or something!”

                Cullen shot her a glare, before turning pleading eyes towards his parents.  “Pleeeeaaasssse?” he begged.  “Pretty please?  Please?  Please?  I’ve never wanted something so much in my entire life, please?  Ple-“

                “Cullen, be silent,” his father barked, and Cullen immediately bit his tongue.  His father turned his gaze to the Knight-Commander.  “Mia is right.  It’s a very dangerous job.  Mages are powerful, and demon possession happens all the time.  How is Cullen supposed to stand up to that?  He’s only thirteen.  He doesn’t know how to wield a sword, and there’s no way he could stand up to a golem.”

                The Knight-Commander’s amiable smile never left his face.  “Of course, we would not just thrust him on his first day there.  There are years of training that we would put him through before he ever had encounter a real mage.  He’s older than the rest of our recruits, but he’s very determined and I think that would make him a great Templar.”   A great Templar.  Him.  He was going to be great!  “Templars are also taught to disrupt magic.   If I’m completely honest with you, mage possession doesn’t happen very often.  Most Templars go their entire lives only needing to find apostates, or watching the mages who are already studying in the tower.”  He turned his gaze to Mia.  “And I’ve never met any mage who controls a golem.”

                “You said yourself that you haven’t seen your family in a long time,” Cullen’s mother said.  “Would we ever get to see him?” 

                Jonah’s smile faltered a little at that question.  “It is true that you won’t be able to see him as much as you would perhaps like to,” he said slowly.  “However, Templars are allowed to take leave from their duties to visit their families once a year, and for our young recruits, their parents are encouraged to visit during holidays.”

                Cullen’s parents turned their gaze to him, and he sat up straighter.  “I’ll write to you every single day!” he said. 

                Mia looked from her parents, to Cullen, to Knight-Commander Jonah, and then angrily placed the four cups of tea she had just made in front of them.  “You can’t honestly be considering this!  Mom!  Dad!  He’ll be killed!” 

                Cullen’s father took his mother’s hand from underneath the table, and gave it a squeeze.  “We would like to get to know you and your knights better before we agree to anything,” he said.  “Please dine with us tonight, and we will give you our decision in the morning.” 

                Mia stormed off to her room.  Knight-Commander Jonah stood, and bowed to them.  “Very well.  I will look forward to dining with you tonight.  By your leave.” 

                And then he left their house.  Cullen ran to his room and immediately began to pack.  

 

                Cullen awoke before the sun came up, and was outside when the sun began to rise over the horizon. 

                “Mom and Dad said yes last night!” he said to the Knight-Commander when he spotted him. 

                “Well, that’s good, recruit.  Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

                Cullen shook his head, and the Knight-Commander laid a hand on his head.  “Well then, there’s no time like now to learn, I suppose.  It’s going to be a very long, very uncomfortable journey for you I’m afraid.  Go to the knight’s and have them teach you how to saddle a horse.” 

                While Cullen busied himself with that, the Knight-Commander went to the Rutherford house and knocked on the door.   After a few minutes, Mr. Rutherford opened the door bleary eyed. 

                “Cullen told me that you have given your blessing.  Is this true?” he asked. 

                Cullen’s father nodded.  “Yes,” he said, and then paused.  “But how did he tell you that?  He’s still in bed.”

                The Knight-Commander laughed, and then shook his head.  “No, he is already saddling the horse.  He does seem quite eager, however.  I’m sure he didn’t even think about saying good-bye, but it will be a while before you are together again as a family.  Perhaps you would like to wake everyone and have a proper farewell.”

                Cullen’s father nodded.  “Thank you,” he said, and then closed the door.   Half an hour later, the Rutherford’s were gathered in the town square.  Cullen hugged and kissed Damian and Abby, and his parents, but Mia would barely look at him.  Though as he turned towards the horse he would be riding, she grabbed him by the wrist, spun him around, and hugged him tightly.  “You be safe, you big idiot,” she said, and Cullen was surprised to hear tears in her voice.  “And you’d better write me every single day like you promised or I’ll travel up there yourself and kick your butt!” 

                Cullen clumsily mounted his horse, and then he was off. 


End file.
